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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328784">Let's Make a Deal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyTsundere/pseuds/SimplyTsundere'>SimplyTsundere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Demons, Bottom Jean Kirstein, Crossroads Deals &amp; Demons, Deal with a Devil, Jean is cheeky, Jeans got no qualms, M/M, Marco Bott is a Little Shit, One Shot, Plotless porn, Supernatural Elements</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:56:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,633</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyTsundere/pseuds/SimplyTsundere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After being told how to turn around his luck, Jean Kirschtein figures a night of drinking and burying a trinket outside a bar is just too easy. Of course, with no further details of how things are supposed to work, he's going into a deal with a demon, blind. Luckily for him, his luck turned around when the demon who comes calling, looks fine in a suit and tie.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Let's Make a Deal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey,</p><p>Yes, I know it's been a very long time. I'm trying, I promise. I've had a very rough job, and now Im changing jobs, I'll have some time through the week for writing. Mostly, I'm writing some RPs with a friend, that we're working on turning into fics. Other fics are being written and worked on, just at a very slow pace when I can find some time to do it. Hopefully, I'll have more time, and more will, to write. I still love all of you. </p><p>Xoxo, Neko</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sipping his whiskey, Jean let his head loll back with a soft sigh. It’d been a long day, an even longer week, somehow all rolled into a painfully extended month. Nothing was going his way, and it felt as if the security he’d worked so hard to build for himself was slipping through his failing grasp, fumbling through his fingers. Everything around him had taken a tumble and was coming undone from the sutures. All it had taken was a well placed mouth, but he supposed that’s how all good things were ruined. </p><p>In his case, his father learning of his particular fondness in the company he kept: that he didn’t have one. Being fired wasn’t a part of the equation, and once other firms learned he’d been fired from his own father’s firm, he was blackballed, labeled damaged goods. Who would throw out their own kin? Clearly it had to have been something irreparable. At least, that was the current word traveling through the grapevine, and thus making the job hunt much harder than it already was for a junior partner just finding his footing in the litigation world. </p><p>Reasons behind his firing didn’t seem to make it in though, and truly, had it ever mattered to anyone as to the “why?” Not really. So as he sat at the dingy dive bar on the outskirts of the outskirts, he began to wonder. Being given a small satchel in a wooden box, Jean let his fingers languidly trace the burnt patterns in the lid. All he’d been told was to take the box and bury it at the crossroads outside the bar, passed midnight, and afterwards his luck would turn around. It seemed it was happening that way for plenty of people, these spurts of seemingly random luck. There had to be more to it than that, and according to his friends, the box in his hands would lead to it. He’d trusted his friends, and to that extend their experiences with this strange box.</p><p>What didn’t make any sense whatsoever, was what exactly was going to happen when he buried whatever was in his hands. There hadn’t been any room for inquiry when he’d asked. It’d been quickly shut down with a “just trust me.” He shrugged it off and walked off with the gift, or perhaps offering, in tow. Building up his courage to see what awaited him, Jean just steeled his nerves with a little help from his alcohol. When he looked down at his watch, reading 3:13am, he nodded to himself. Getting down from the stool, closing out his tab, and finishing his whiskey, Jean had finally managed to resolve himself appropriately. </p><p>As he pushed through the doors, stumbling just a step, he made for the crossroads. Each crunching step on the gravel echoed in his ears, fighting with the beat and rush of blood through his frantic heart for his attention. They were just out of earshot from the bar, a few yards by his guess, but he could still see the building and all the cars way off.  Taking a deep breath, he knelt and dipped his hand into the gravelly soil. Taken by surprise at how easily movable, Jean scooped just enough of the earth away to place the wooden box inside. Carefully, he covered it until he could no longer see it beneath the dirt. </p><p>Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Jean closed his eyes and let the stress in his shoulders release. No air moved around him, no chirping of crickets, no screams of cicadas on the nearby pines; the atmosphere twisted, something chillingly calm, and nothing but his own heartbeat sounded in his ears. Something felt wrong. Entirely wrong. There was a sudden chill in his bones, rushing across his spine, and the urge for his nicotine fix kicked in. Maybe the rush would keep him from bolting clear of the spot. Digging in his pockets, Jean fumbled blindly until he found his cigarettes.</p><p>As he placed the filter between his studded lips, he heard the strike of metal and a honey smooth voice call to him “Need a light?” Jean twisted on his heels to see who’d silently snuck up to him, and much to his surprise, the lavishly clad man flashed him a pearly smile. Full lips parted in a curled cheshire’s smile that spoke to something about his character, perhaps that the cunning smile was entirely too pleasing. The galaxy scape of freckles across faun skin too inviting. Dark umber eyes too enrapturing. Even the softened, round features that may have given an impression of sweetness spoke to Jean and said there was only bitterness hiding beneath it. </p><p>The man stood only an inch or two taller than Jean, dressed in a black four piece bespoke suit that pulled in at all the right contours of his body. Curls of chocolate were gelled in place, his metallic red tie tied in a perfect double windsor knot, the tight silver pinstripes on his vest, and his shoes bore an unmistakable shine, nearly reflecting that sharp smile curling up the corners of his mouth. His slender fingers remained coiled around a zippo lighter, so Jean swallowed everything screaming in his gut to run, and held out his cigarette. </p><p>“Uh, yeah,” he finally managed, “thanks.” His amber eyes scanned down the mystery man once again, trying to find something he’d missed, hoping that he’d missed something that would allow himself to come off the edge he was on. </p><p>Lighting his cigarette, the man nodded, “There you go.” As he straightened up, standing a bit taller, he stuffed the lighter into his inner lapel pocket and folded his arms over his chest. His voice dropped, the lulled, pleasing sound shifted to one of flat business, “Now, what can I do for you?”</p><p>Knitting his brows, Jean failed to find the words, “I, uh.. what are you talking about?”</p><p>Umber eyes regarded him a moment, scanning from his face down to his old motorcycle boots, “You summoned me, sweetheart, and hurry it up. I’ve other deals to make.” The retort fogged his brain yet again. Summoned? Just what had this guy been talking about? Something was definitely off, and if he had to make a wager, it’d be that the dude was off alright, off his damned rocker. </p><p>Jean scoffed, clicking his teeth a bit as he replied “Wait a minute. Deals? I’m not here to deal with anyone. My friend told me to bury this box, that my luck would turn around, and someone could help—-”</p><p>Interjecting with a laugh, the man’s grin shifted to something playful as he began to circle Jean, “Not a very nice friend, that one, giving you the means and none of the information. To just, toss you to me without warning,..well, that’s quite like tossing fresh meat to pack of starving wolves. At least you’re cute.” He’d come to a stop in front of Jean and held his gaze, “How about you walk with me? Tell me your name.” Jean had been glaring almost at this man and his dramatic, cryptic speech, but he’d finally stopped.</p><p>“It’s Jean,” he said simply, staying put, “you?”</p><p>Holding out a hand, he offered with a wink “I’ve had many, but these days? Marco will do just fine. Let’s walk, tell me about what’s wrong, and maybe I can help you.” Jean sighed and shook the man’s hand. The act was growing tiresome, it was as if he was putting on a show, but Jean had no idea why. What would this man need to alter his perception for? If he was just some guy in a suit who fixed things, he was probably gonna be scummy, so he didn’t see the need for the act. </p><p>“Where to start?” Jean posed rhetorically as he began to walk back to the bar at Marco’s side. “My dad found out some personal things about me that he disagreed with. He disowned me, fired me, cut me off, and cut me out of his will. Bills are piling up, and I can’t get a firm to look at me twice because of my name and the rumors. Think you can manufacture some luck for me on that?”</p><p>Marco gave a curt nod, “Looks like your friend pointed you in the right direction after all. I can help you.” A feline smile returned to Marco’s lips, “For a price, that is.” </p><p>“Obviously,” Jean quipped, “I didn’t expect it to be free.”</p><p>Slinking up to Jean, sliding a hand to his chest, Marco pushed him from the path to whisper against his ear, “But are you prepared to give it?” </p><p>As the humid breath rushed against the shell of his ear, Jean fought the shiver “Give what?”</p><p><em>“Your soul,”</em> came the seductively whispered reply. Who the hell was this guy, and just why did he think he could get away with that shit?! Just what had he been drinking? Hell, maybe it was something he smoked, but this guy was out of his mind. It hadn’t been enough to play around, but now he was making light of the situation that could very well ruin his life and all that he’d worked for. </p><p>Jean jerked his head away from Marco and shoved him back, “What— Is this just some fucking <em>joke</em> to you?” Clicking his teeth in clear derision, Marco shook his head. If he’d thought he’d seen a cheshire’s smile play across Marco’s lips, he’d been wrong. Nothing was as eerily sinister and curious as the smile that began to twist his lips. It was then Jean’s heartbeat raced through his chest, thundering to be let free, telling his brain to move his feet and run, because whatever was happening wasn’t good. Nowhere near the definition of the word.</p><p>Some part of him knew that perhaps this had all been too good to be true. An insanely attractive man came out of, what felt like, thin air and offers to help? No. That wasn’t how things worked, and just maybe he was hallucinating, or dreaming, or far too drunk. In the moment he saw the rich, umber doe eyes flash to a dark black sclera with a vertical, scarlet slit pupil that could have matched his tie. The only thing he could think was that the devil did wear a suit and tie. </p><p>Flames smoldered beneath his feet, licking at the heels of his shoes as they were smothered into the gravel, as he approached Jean again, “Do I look like I make a habit out of making jokes about business, Jean? I’m a demon, my dear, nothing else you could possibly have is of any interest to me.”</p><p>“I—” Jean stammered, in a mix of disbelief and horror, “fuck, I’m drunk.”</p><p>“Not nearly as much as you’d like to believe you are,” Marco deadpanned, “look at me, Jean. I can give you anything you desire, but the price is your soul.”</p><p>Holding the gaze, Jean nodded, heart still beating violently in Marco’s presence, “S-Say that, uh, hypothetically, you’re a demon, a-and I, um, give up my soul for your help.. what happens afterwards?”</p><p>“You go on living your life,” Marco answered smoothly, “until I come to collect, and I do assure you, that I will come calling. I will come to collect what is owed to me at whatever time I so choose. </p><p>“When exactly is that?” Jean questioned, still under whatever spell was cast over him to make him believe this scenario was even remotely possible. </p><p>“Depends,” he shrugged, “I make my terms dependent on the client.” Skimming his fingertips over Jean’s sharply angled jawline, Marco smiled while Jean sucked in a breath as if the other would steal it from his lips. There was no telling why that felt so, incredibly, breathtaking. Why that man’s, if he could be called that, touch felt so good against his skin. Marco’s cunning smile returned as he cooed, “Dirty mind you’ve got, Jean.” </p><p>Immediately flushing at the thought being put into his head, Jean smacked his hand away “Fuck you.”</p><p>Smirking, Marco gave a sweet chuckle, “Fuck me yourself, you coward. Too scared?” He’d think about that godly, maybe sinful, sound from his lips later. Instead he was too busy focusing on the words and that teasing tone. No one else would get away with that, so why the fuck should Marco? What because he was a demon? That didn’t really change much, not to Jean. </p><p>“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He snarked in return. <em>“Bite me.”</em></p><p>“Maybe later,” Marco winked before shaking his head. “Relax. I’m not going to try anything, unless you ask me real nice like. Now, I’ll help you, so let’s go someplace we can talk terms and contracts. Are you comfortable at your place?” First he was making sexual comments, touching him so softly, and now he was trying to go back to his place? Man, there really was nothing subtle about him, and maybe, just maybe, Jean liked that. </p><p>“Inviting a demon to my house?” Jean paused for effect before finishing with a playful scoff “Are you out of your damn mind? I’d rather be invited to Hannibal Lecter’s for a dinner party.”</p><p>“Haha, you’re funny,” Marco chuckled for a moment. Waving a hand, conjuring a perfectly made martini, Marco shrugged “Darling, I can apparate, I can conjure, I can do many things. I don’t need a key or you to tell me where you live.”</p><p>Not liking that idea, Jean shook his head, “Yeah, we’re not doing that. I’m not poofing somewhere. I’m a human,<em> I drive.”</em></p><p>“Then let me clear your head at least,” Marco purred, placing a hand firm to his throat. Jean stood perfectly still, mostly in fear that if he moved something ill would befall him. He’d no idea what was happening, if it was all real even, or maybe something he’d fabricated while he was passed out in his own drool on the bar top. If anything, however, he didn’t mind this fever dream.  “There,” Marco hummed pleasantly, “you should be able to drive. You’re not drunk anymore, so, lead the way.” During their walk back to his car, his head perfectly clear, he began to feel worse about the scenario. How was he supposed to even handle it all? If Marco was a demon, and it was clear he was something inhuman, then what else out there existed? Angels? Werewolves? Vampires? Shapeshifters? God?</p><p>As he opened the door of his car, Jean settled into the seat and glanced over at Marco, hesitant, before asking, “Can I ask you something, Marco?”</p><p>“Sure,” Marco agreed, buckling his seatbelt “I’m an open book.” Jean had to have a slight giggle at that. The demon was concerned about his personal safety, yeah, sure. It all just seemed completely asinine that Marco, a demon, would even care about something so pedantic. The guy could probably heal himself, bring someone back from the dead, so what was a seatbelt going to do? </p><p>“Does holy water bother you? Cause you’re buckling your seatbelt for god’s sake. I imagine there aren’t many things that can hurt you,” Jean reasoned aloud.</p><p>Glancing to Jean, Marco answered “It’s so you don’t get stopped by the police, Jean. I’d hate to get you a ticket on my behalf. As for holy water? Crosses? Bibles? No. I’m far too old for that, too powerful. I’m a bit special, you see.” </p><p>At Marco’s upbeat hum, Jean had to ask, “What makes you so special?”</p><p>Flashing a sharp smile and demonic eyes, Marco answered proudly, “I’m kind of important, you know. I was the first of my kind.” Jean stopped and looked at Marco. First meant something else entirely. Were there species of demons? Types? Or had he meant of all of them? Had he drawn a more powerful card than he’d meant?</p><p>“By that you mean—”</p><p>“Lucifer,” Marco interjected, “is a name I’ve not been called in eons. Rest assured, I’m every bit as bad as you’ve heard.”</p><p>At the wink, Jean just rolled his eyes, “You can’t even be serious for five seconds, Marco, I’m not exactly worried about your reputation.” He lied. There was something about sitting in the car with the literal devil, taking him back to where he lived. Getting back on the road, Jean reasoned to himself that it was told Lucifer was once the most beautiful angels, and looking at Marco, well, it definitely tracked. </p><p>“Guess you <em>were</em> supposed to be beautiful,” Jean commented nonchalantly.</p><p>Leaning over the center console, Marco slipped a hand to Jean’s upper thigh “Aww, you think I’m beautiful?”</p><p>Arching a brow, he quickly looked to Marco, “Down boy. I also think sunsets are beautiful.” Training his eyes back to the road, he asked softly, “So.. When you take a soul, does it— well, does it hurt?”</p><p>“Immensely,” Marco answered flatly, “it will feel like your bones are shattering beneath 10 tonnes of pressure, like your skin is being ripped off muscle at agonizingly slow speed, like feeling all of your organs burst individually. It will be awful, and you will feel every second until your soul is ripped away from your physical body.” Jean sucked in a quick breath at Marco’s honesty. If he was a used car salesman for luck and demonic favors, wouldn’t it have made sense to lie?! He was supposed to be good at that anyhow, King of Lies and all that. </p><p>“Thanks for that mental image,” Jean muttered almost under his breath to himself. “Aren’t you supposed to sweet talk me?” Jean asked, shifting focus from the road to Marco. </p><p>“Contrary to the moniker, I do not lie,” Marco admitted as he kept his eyes on Jean. “I find it’s better to be be honest about someone who is doing me a favor. Depending on the deal, I do try my best to return the kindness. You don’t have to make a deal with me, but if you do, and I think you make a good one, for honorable reasons, I will do my best to help you and delay your gruesome ending as best I can. I’ll take good care of you.” Now, that was sweet talk. The lilt in his words as “I’ll take good care of you” had something growing in the hollows of Jean’s chest, in the pit of his stomach, like he almost trusted it and that there might be another meaning to them entirely.</p><p>Adjusting his posture a bit, Jean leaned back in his seat, “Seems a bit shifty for the literal devil, you know.”</p><p>Feigning offense, Marco’s mouth popped open, “How dare! I also like strawberry milkshakes, pop music, and gardening.” He had to be joking, right? The absurdity of that all was far too much. In no possible way did he picture the devil in a little sun hat and crocs weeding a garden of tea roses and peonies. It was ridiculous to even think of let alone say aloud. </p><p>Unable to prevent his body wracking laughter, Jean burst out “Haha! That’s hilarious, Marco, really?” </p><p>“Excuse you,” Marco huffed, “my hellhounds inhabit a Belgian Malinois, a great Dane, and a Corgi. Pembroke. I love to dance, I have a day job— I own a nice little cafe and bookstore next to the flower shop on Kerr.” </p><p>“Now you’ve got to be screwing with me,” Jean snickered, futily attempting to hid it. </p><p>Marco just rolled his eyes, “Demons and the devil fit in with people, Jean, hell isn’t exactly a nice place to summer.”</p><p>“Look, never exactly thought that I’d find the devil— nevermind,” Jean rattled off, thankfully saving himself from embarrassing himself with Marco yet again.</p><p>Grinning with a cat-ate-the-canary smile, Marco purred, “Oh, no, Jean, do <em>go on.”</em></p><p>Jean reached across and shoved Marco back to his seat with his forearm, “You get off on this don’t you?”</p><p>Licking his lips, Marco answered him with a flirty hum “Hmmm, of course, I do. Kinda my schtick. Making people squirm. I just find that are far better ways these days.”</p><p>“Knock it off,” Jean grumbled, “your face doesn’t suit your words.”</p><p>“Oh,” Marco teased, “the face you think is so pretty? What do you think of adding in a little treat into your contract?”</p><p>“Not gonna sell you more than my soul, Marco,” Jean scoffed. He definitely wasn’t about to sell his soul for some help and his ass. Now, maybe if Marco wanted to screw around without the contractual obligation…he was gorgeous, a bit of an ass, and he couldn’t rightfully tell if he wanted to punch him in the face or wipe that stupid grin off his face with his own. All of it though, wrapped up in one neat devilish bow, made for a pretty neat trap. One he’d throw himself into if given half the chance. </p><p>“So you’ll give it to me freely then?” Marco egged on, pushing him just a bit further. </p><p>Jean narrowed his eyes, “Do you ever fucking stop?”</p><p>“No,” Marco snickered, relaxing back in his seat, “you’re so fun to screw with.”</p><p>“Glad I could provide you with some thrilling entertainment on the drive,” Jean groaned, “this is a hard enough decision to make without you adding other shit to it, okay? Ease up. You’re already getting what you want.” </p><p>Sensing the shift, Marco nodded, “Apologies then. You’ll have to at least know then, that I seal my contracts with a kiss. All of them.”</p><p>“Must make you popular,” Jean remarked, trying his best to avoid thinking about kissing Marco.</p><p>“I just enjoy seeing men squirm, especially the ones making nasty deals, getting off on all that power. I make them regret it, before <em>and</em> after the contract,” Marco smirked, clearly proud of his actions. </p><p>Jean had to admit that it did sound like something meriting pride “I love that.”</p><p>“Not nearly as bad as I’m made out to be, now, am I?” Marco posed rhetorically. </p><p>Unable to keep it in, Jean blurted, “So, like, do you have goat feet and shit?”</p><p>Marco cocked his head to the side, glaring at Jean, “No, I don’t. Do I look like I’ve got cloven hooves under here? How, Jean, pray tell, would they fucking fit in my shoes? I don't have hooves!” After a huff, Marco added, “Why are you curious? Wanna know if I have any extra bits?”</p><p>“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jean sighed, “your <em>bits</em> aren’t on my mind. Just curious if you’re as human as you look to be.”</p><p>“Horns, tail, eyes, teeth, tongue, and nails. That’s all the different, non-human, bits that I have, and no, you can’t see them,” Marco remarked exasperatedly. It seemed to Jean as if he’d been asked about that too much, like a teacher tired of answering the same questions again and again. </p><p>“Sorry,” Jean apologized awkwardly, rubbing at his neck sheepishly. He’d really not expected Marco to be touchy about anything, much less a bit sensitive about his appearance. He could, however, imagine that after centuries of people remarking to cloven hooves and goats, that he’d be tired of anything referring to it. It wasn’t like he was just an evil satyr or something. “The eyes, though, I think I’ll always remember them. Might haunt my nightmares.”</p><p>Marco’s characteristic, playful grin returned, “You gonna dream about me? That’s sweet, Jean, at least make ‘em fun though, huh?” Jean really wanted to wipe off that smirk, but he looked so delicious wearing it that he thought better of it. His mind ran off with him then, wondering just what he’d look like if that pretty smirk was all that he was wearing. Thankfully, they pulled into the apartment complex before he could say anything or think anything else. Maybe the change in scenery and the jump back to business would keep him from thinking about sleeping with the literal goddamned devil. </p><p>Leading him up to the apartment, Jean opened the door and made himself at home. Tossing his keys into the fishbowl on the counter, he stripped off his jacket and hung it up on the rack behind the door. He checked the fridge and grabbed himself a bottle of wine. Swiftly pouring himself a glass, he had a feeling Marco might want to indulge a bit and poured a second. Offering it out to him, he led the way to his sectional and propped his feet up on his coffee table. </p><p>“Nice place,” Marco commented, “good view, comfortable, and one you plan on keeping.”</p><p>“Yep, so let’s talk terms,” Jean initiated, gingerly sipping his wine as he sat up. “I don’t want something that I don’t deserve. I want something that I’d be capable of achieving on my own. I don’t need fame, or luxury, or anything else. Just the space for the opportunities I would have had before all this.”</p><p>Marco nodded along as he spoke and sat down his glass, shifting to face Jean on the sofa, “I could make it go away, Jean, like it never happened.”</p><p>“No,” Jean responded quickly, “I won’t spend the rest of my life hiding who I am so he can be comfortable. No, this is for the best. I just want to be happy, you know? Live. Enjoy life.”</p><p>“Understood,” Marco smiled sweetly. For the first time, Jean wondered if that was his real smile. One that wasn’t meant to tease or prod or be salacious. A genuine smile. He found he rather liked that one too. Maybe liked that one most of all. It suit him; for once he saw something that suit him more than the  act he was putting on. “I’ll open some doors, but it’ll be up to you which path you take. I won’t sprinkle any devil dust on it or anything. Just allow you to be able to survive, and maybe being secure will help with the enjoying life bit. Unfortunately, I can’t snap and make you happy, but I can try to help where possible.”</p><p>“Too bad,” Jean laughed shortly, “what else?”</p><p>Raising his glass, Marco took a sip and answered, “My terms. I would be willing to give you.. 40 years. It’s about the most I offer.”</p><p>“Deal,” he answered immediately, wasting no time.</p><p>Blinking back surprise, Marco asked softly, “Don’t you need time to think? It’s a hefty weight of a decision, Jean. It will change your life. Are you sure?”</p><p>“That’s the point,” Jean quipped with a smile, “I never much cared for the idea of getting old. I’d like to be able to keep my mind and faculties intact. You’ve been nothing but honest with me this entire time. Yeah, okay, maybe you turned life on it’s ass, and me too in the process, but I’m good with those terms. I’ll take them. Im a lawyer, you know, I know a good deal when I see one.”</p><p>“And already a soulless lot, aren’t you?” Marco laughed as he inched closed to Jean. His voice softened, a silken lure bringing him closer as he mentioned “One last act. You may feel a slight burn.” Jean didn’t have time to ask about what would be burning and where when Marco framed his face and kissed him. His hands moved to Marco’s face on instinct, tugging him nearly flush to him. If not for the searing pain that took his breath away from the heavenly kiss, he’d not have stopped.</p><p>“Fuck!” Jean shouted, tugging his shirt overhead as he noticed a black circle, geometric lines and shapes drawn in and across it on his chest. It remained only for the blink of an eye before disappearing, almost as if sinking into his skin.</p><p>Marco wiped at the corner of his mouth, “Marking your soul as mine is all.”</p><p>“Uh huh,” Jean agreed in a slight daze, his eyes lingering longingly on Marco’s mouth. He couldn’t care less about the marking, but the way Marco had kissed him. He was pretty sure he’d never been kissed like that, not by anyone. Just the way his limbs felt light and his stomach tightened at the thought of Marco’s hands on him. He couldn’t resist any longer, and neither, it appeared, could Marco. He’d never really noticed Marco’s hand resting on his hip, but it only made it that much easier for Marco to drag him into his lap. </p><p>Dropping his arms around Marco’s neck, he kissed him with everything alight in his soul. Every piece that would one day belong to him. The rush, the high, he’d seek from one kiss to the next was ecstasy, and maybe that came with making out with the devil, but that mouth was godly. There was barely a mind left to use when Marco broke his kiss, tugged his lip with his teeth, and grinned. Just who the fuck let the devil be so attractive and infuriating? Crashing his mouth back to Marco’s in fire and fury, he lost himself on his taste, gorged himself on it, until he was fighting for each breath. </p><p>Scraping his teeth over Jean’s throat, Marco muttered huskily, “Bedroom?”</p><p>Running his fingers into Marco’s hair, he panted “Down the hall on the left.” He’d not expected Marco to lift him, letting his fingers curl into his thighs as he picked him up and walked off towards his room. Last he recalled his room was a downright disaster zone, so some more clothes on the floor couldn’t hurt. When they got to the door, Jean struggled in his arms “Put me down, Marco, now.” Marco had just quirked up a brow, but did as he asked. The very moment his feet were on the ground, he stuck his fingers behind Marco’s belt and dragged him into his bedroom. </p><p>Shoving him back to the door, Jean mouthed sloppily down his throat, just eager to undress him, “Sorry, Marco, I’m god here.” </p><p>“Then for once, baby, I’ll get on my knees and <em>pray,”</em> Marco whispered, letting Jean’s clumsy hands soar down his front, unbuttoning everything they reached. Slinging off his jacket, shirt, and vest, Marco tossed them to a chair in the room, not paying much mind where it landed. With them both bare from the waist up, Marco took it upon himself to grab Jean’s hand. Kissing the inner wrist, Marco looked at him sweetly, “Let me take you to bed.” Jean couldn’t help but smile. It sounded sincere in the most cheesy of fashions, but the look on his face, it make his skin prick. </p><p>Jean nodded and let Marco sling him to bed, watching as Marco took his time. Gentle kisses, mouthing hot over previously made bites, Marco was slowing their pace, letting him feel the emotion in every action, every touch. Marking a trail, he began nibbling at his collarbones, let his fingertips find a nipple and twist the bar between his fingers. Replacing his touch with his teeth, a ragged gasp left Jean’s lips as the sharp bite registered. Digging his nails into Jean’s hips, Marco hummed a filthy sound that reverberated in his throat. Just at the sight of Jean’s perfectly pale skin flush with a rosy hue, all his doing, Marco was already painfully aware he needed out of his own pants. </p><p>“Are you just gonna stare?” Jean snarked with a pant, smirking. Marco just laughed, returning himself to the actions at hand, letting his tongue follow the faint trail of blonde hair on Jean’s abdomen. Tasting him to his waistband, he popped the button of his jeans with his teeth, careful to lower the zipper too. Propping himself up on his elbows, Jean wanted to watch as Marco ripped his pants to his ankles, taking his boxers with them. There was a thankful groan from Jean at the release of his erection from the stifling confines of the tight denim. </p><p>Running the flat of his tongue up his stomach, Marco delighted as he felt Jean’s abdominal muscles clench and unwind. Making sure to put on a show, he slowly swallowed Jean whole, flushing Jean’s cheeks to a dark merlot. A strangled moan of Marco’s name left Jean’s lips, watching him like that, and feeling the wet heat around him. He’d not expected Marco to blow him, but he was not stopping him any time soon. If the devil wanted to get on his knees for him, well, that was a power trip. </p><p>Reaching down, Jean let his fingers tangle into Marco’s perfectly bedraggled hair as his tongue twisted around the head of his cock, taking his time to unravel him. Jean’s back arched, his toes curled, and he wanted Marco to hurry. Judging from how he’d given him that heavy tinted gaze when he’d moaned his name, he had a feeling forcing Marco’s hand would be a simple game. As Marco continued to work him, swallowing him to the hilt, sucking gently, twisting his tongue around his shaft, Jean ensured he kept no sound to himself. Allowing each wanton whine and strained scream roll from his lips, he was pushing the limits to Marco’s patience.  </p><p>There was nothing to be shy about when Marco broke from his oral distraction to ask where he’d put his stash of condoms and lubricant. Jean just pointed towards the left nightstand before sitting up. So far, Marco had been having all the fun, and that just wasn’t Jean’s style. Crawling into his lap when he’d fetched their supplies, Jean took back his control, letting his fingers finally touch all of Marco, his chest, dropping down his abs, tracing out muscle, and following his sides. Jean kissed him fiercely, rolling his hips against Marco’s to gain some sort of friction. Much to his surprise, Marco wrapped his hand around Jean’s cock, setting a decent pace. </p><p>“You’re so eager,” Marco cooed teasingly, grinning impishly, “I can taste it on you….and, <em>fuck,</em> do you taste so good.” </p><p>“Shut up,” Jean groaned, nipping his lips, chasing them, “and fuck me right now. I need you inside me, so you better hurry.” There was a sputter on Marco’s lips and a stutter in his rhythm. He’d clearly won that one when Marco bit his earlobe, shoving him back to the bed. Jean watched as Marco shimmied impatiently out of his slacks, tossing off his boxers quickly thereafter. Appreciating the view, he wrapped his arms around Marco’s neck, “God, you’re beautiful.”</p><p>“Don’t say that name again here,” he growled, nipping his lip in warning as he laid them back to the bed. He was fine with that, but praising god during an orgasm, that was going to be hard to avoid. Marco quickly set a new pace, everything a flurry of bites and open mouthed kisses. Fanning the flames, he ensured that by the time he popped the cap on the lubricant, Jean was turning into a puddle of his unsatisfied desire. Pre-cum dribbled from the head of his cock, dripping down his shaft, ready for Marco to give him the best kind of attention he could pay. </p><p>Already a mess beneath his touch, Marco loved just how honest Jean and his body were. If he did anything, Jean would rock his hips up to feel more, chase his mouth for more, whatever he wanted, he let Marco know. For once, no one was scared of him, and he ate up just how vocal Jean was when something really drove him wild. So far, sex with Jean was unlike anything else, and he was going to make sure to prove it all night.</p><p>A thorough prepping, feeling Marco’s dexterous fingers inside him, working him open, was the most delicious form of agony. One finger moving about, a gentle thrusting motion before a sudden second splaying apart from the first, then a complete removal before the third. Marco was 0 to 60 in a few seconds flat, and his head was spinning. He supposed the devil was good at torture, but what he wouldn’t give to keep feeling that. It was the opening act before the final, the one that really shook the venue, and he’d not been above begging. Already, to Marco, he looked so wonderful, flushed and begging for his cock like that, so he decided to give into the sweet calling demands once he'd adjusted and he’d drove out another scream of his name. </p><p>Playing into Marco’s need for it, he’d arched his spine just under Marco’s rough palms, whined and quivered, begged him to just hurry and fuck him, to wreck him, to ruin him completely. When he finally gave in, Jean could have sworn he saw more than stars. Marco’s composure had been severely damaged by Jean’s mouth, but Jean was never going to turn it off, and Marco secretly loved it. Every moan was freed at Marco’s ear, his nails dug into Marco’s shoulders taking skin with them, and he rocked back into every thrust. The moment he tossed a leg over Marco’s hip and laid back, giving him all the control to fuck the breath out of him, he’d never felt anything like it. His moans of Marco’s name twisted to hiccups, unable to get much out during the sweat inducing rhythm.</p><p>Feeling the clench and release of Jean's muscles, the screwed shut eyes, and the half pant-half screams of his name, Marco knew Jean was approaching his climax quickly. Reaching between them Marco secured a hand around his cock, stroking him in tandem with each thrust of his hips, pushing Jean to his orgasm. As the tepid fluid spilled over his hand, Jean’s faculties were gone, but he still rocked back into each thrust to get Marco his. </p><p>“Jean, you feel <em>so</em> fucking good, beautiful,” Marco growled out into his ear as he came, sweat dripping onto his skin. His fingers dug into Jean’s hip for leverage, burying himself with a faltered final thrust or two. </p><p>Looking up at Marco before he collapsed next to him, Jean panted “Obviously.” He couldn’t help but poke a bit of fun. </p><p>Marco cleaned up, bringing him a towel to rid himself of both their bodily fluids, and laid out beside him, “You are..<em>incredible</em>. Wow.”</p><p>Snuggling up to him, Jean let his fingers drop down his chest, “Yeah? Tell me more.”</p><p><em>“Cheeky,”</em> Marco hummed, reaching across to push strands of sweat soaked flaxen hair behind his ear. “I like it, and I don’t like humans.”</p><p>“What makes me special?” Jean questioned, grin playing about his lips.</p><p>“Best sex of my life, and, baby, I’ve had <em>eons</em> to practice,” Marco commented, thumbing his bottom lip with a smile. “You talk back to me. You’re not afraid of me, not afraid of putting the fucking devil in his place, and I can dig that.” Marco’s eyes fell to Jean’s chest before they met his amber eyes once again, “Can, uh, can we do this again sometime”</p><p>A little purr sounded from Jean’s lips as he rolled into Marco’s lap “Yeah, sure. How about right now?”</p><p>Hands snapping to Jean’s hip, Marco groaned, “Ugh, you’re gonna kill me. Gimme about 10 minutes, okay?”</p><p>“You have<em> five,”</em> Jean offered with a devious grin, rocking his hips before kissing him roughly. Maybe having sex with the devil on a regular basis would be fun, he’d have to thank Reiner for that one. Yeah, he’d helped, helped with the main issue, but now, well, now he was going to have another. How could he be a half decent lawyer if he was exhausted? Because he didn’t think he was capable of telling him no, not with the best sex of his life on the line. If anything could be said, however, it was that the devil made one hell of good deal, and who was he to turn him down?</p><p> </p>
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